Beware of runaway shopping carts

TP’ing with toilet paper is a tradition that’s been around for generations. High school students celebrate special school events by TP’ing the homes of royalty contestants, team players, or even coaches. I know our house has been papered on several occasions. The student living in the house can feel wonderful: they’ve been recognized and decorated. Mom and Dad may have a different feeling. They have to clean up the mess. Hopefully, there are some rolls left over and, hopefully, it’s two-ply paper. A quick tip: clean it up from the trees and your roof before it rains. I was driving down 4th St. NE and I thought this was only a homecoming tradition. Toilet paper in February? Then it came to me. The high school had just celebrated Snow Week.

Lisa says I’m anal when it comes to parking our car in a busy parking lot. I look for spots away from others and my handicap sticker really comes in handy. On the other hand, Lisa will pull in the tightest of spaces to get as close to an entrance as possible. We do have our moments. My rationale is to be as careful as possible and not get doored by the car next to me.

Wal-Mart is the place I do most of my grocery shopping. Doesn’t everybody? I had my list: a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, Snyder’s Honey Mustard Pretzel Pieces, and a family-size package of Cheetos for Dave. Lisa’s list consisted of asparagus, broccoli and some fresh fruit. I pulled into my handicap parking space, opened the door, and my hat blew off. It was really windy. I completed my shopping, hadn’t forgot anything on the list, and carried my bags out the door into the howling wind. There it was. A shopping cart had blown into the front door of my car. I rushed over and inspected and there it was, a small ding in the paint on the car door. When you are shopping and the wind is blowing, beware of moving shopping carts. I’ve also had people tell me they’ve run into the cement poles in the parking lot, denting their fenders.

Most people will tell you that I’m a good driver. I can drive long distances without rest, am reliable driving on icy roads, and have only one speeding ticket on my record. My wife, a former driver’s education instructor, thinks I have two glaring weaknesses, driving a bit too fast and rolling through stop signs. A stop sign means one and only one thing, STOP! I have a favorite stop sign. It’s one-of-a-kind. When you read this sign, you don’t have to stop. As you are traveling into Waseca on old Hwy. 13, you take a left and travel around Loon Lake. Located in the bend is a stop sign which reads in fine print on the bottom of the sign, “Except on a right turn.” No one ever stops at this stop sign. I absolutely love driving 30 mph right through that stop sign.

Took a drive on Sunday with Sammy, our wonder dog, and Lisa to see the kites flying on Clear Lake, a Sleigh and Cutter festivity I missed last year that friends said you just have to see. They were right on. It was spectacular. The people turning out to watch the kites flying on the lake out from the boat house was incredible. Many parents and families with young children were walking to the ice to share the fun, many seniors as well. Several of the kites were huge and our favorites were a dragon, Clifford the dog, a Toy Story guy, a flying pig, and a giant orange tiger.

Dennis the Menace is a character that every Baby Boomer knows well. Henry Ketcham was an American cartoonist who created Dennis the Menace comic strip, writing and drawing it from 1951 to 1994. In 1959, a sitcom ran for four seasons featuring the rascal Dennis. He was also featured in four movies. I saw a nice TV news story that featured a statue of Dennis residing in Monterey, Calif. The statue was stolen by vandals in 2005. It was recently recovered by divers in a lake, restored and put back in place, and is again standing tall in Monterey.

Lisa read my work and asked, “What’s your topic? You are all over the place.”

Thanks to Eli Lutgens and his wonderful editing staff, I think I’ll be OK. They are encouraging the positive in their quest to make me a newspaper column writer.